Shattered Dynasty

Payton knows it because she snorts and mouths “boy” behind Henry, a smirk gracing her lips. I should be thankful she didn’t latch on to the “your girl” part.

“I read a study once that poker is bad for mental acuity in seniors. Maybe it’s time to rethink Cresthill’s policy.”

It’s bullshit. Well, maybe it isn’t, but if it’s not, I wouldn’t know. I don’t spend my time reading poker studies. I’d rather play it.

Henry guffaws, knowing I wouldn’t. “Sure thing, kid. I interrupted your date. I can take a hint.” He nudges me again with his elbow, despite the nearly foot-high difference between us. “Remember the hydro surfboard I requested next time you use us to impress your girl.”

And then he’s gone, moving on to his next victim.

“Whatever your intentions are, I think they’re backfiring,” Payton says, following me out of the common room.

No shit.

Thankfully, it’s only a few more steps before we arrive at Margret’s office. She spots me before we pass through the open doorway and stands to make her way to us, attention fixed on the thorn in my side, aka Payton.

At seventy-eight, Margret could be a resident here, and she is, but she also refuses to stop working. She’s a triple threat. Sharp as a tack. Well-experienced. Well-liked. I put Cresthill in her care as soon as it opened a few years ago and haven’t regretted it once.

“Trent,” she greets, sizing up Payton. “Is this Ms. Hart?”

Payton reaches out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

As they shake hands, I send Margret a meaningful stare behind Payton’s head, reminding her not to tell Payton I own this place. Margret rolls her eyes.

She releases Payton’s hand. “Trent told me all about you.”

“He did?” Payton asks skeptically.

“Only good things.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course. He mentioned you need volunteer hours to pad your résumé once you graduate.”

I said no such thing, but leave it to Margret to take it upon herself to create a cover story that makes things comfortable for everyone around here. Like I said. Sharp as a tack.

“I’ll be sure to write you a nice letter of rec, should you need one,” Margret promises.

Payton is taken aback. Frankly, so am I. This is not supposed to twist in her favor. Cresthill needs the help. I need Payton in an environment I can control. One where I can spoon-feed what she learns about me and how much she sees. It’s as simple as that.

“Thank you,” Payton says, and it’s the most genuine I’ve ever seen her.

“No problem. Anything for Trent.” Margret nods in my direction. “He’s my favorite volunteer here, even if I think he’s just doing it for the good PR,” she jokes, returning to the cover story we agreed upon. The one she promised to have the rest of the staff on board with. Since the residents don’t know I own the place, it works.

The last thing I need is for Payton to find out I have a heart.

“Margret,” I greet, reminding her I exist. Not a position I’m often in. “Back to Ms. Hart. The one I told you all about on the phone.”

I throw in the “all” for good measure.

Let Payton wonder what that means.

“As I said before, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Margret. As Trent, I’m sure, has told you, I run Cresthill House. Follow me, and I’ll show you where you will be today.” Margret turns to me. “Trent?”

“Yes?”

“You wait here. I have something I want to discuss with you.”

The look she gives me tells me not to argue, which normally I would find comical considering our roles in this place. It occurs to me how often the women in my life order me around, from Payton to Mom to Margret.

Cyrus, the asshole, is right.

Women are my soft spot, and I need to harden it the fuck up where Payton Hart is concerned.

“No problem,” I respond, walking farther into the room and taking a seat.

I fish out my phone after they leave and check my email to kill time.

Who knows how long I’ll be here waiting. Could be five minutes. Could be an hour. You never know with Margret. She’s a hard-core talker. Knowing her, she’s probably shooting twenty million invasive questions at Payton faster than she can process them.

No new emails on the work front.

I made a shit ton on shorting the stock, and now I must figure out what to do with the earnings.

My money will go to Cyrus. But as for my clients, I need to come up with less risky investments to hold the funds until the right opportunity pops up.

I employ the best people in the business. They keep their ears to the pavement on upcoming product launches. I have no doubt the opportunity will arise soon.

There’s a careful ecosystem in money laundering. Believability is key. With the meteoric rise of tech and crypto, they’re safe investment bets. Realistic ones to clean dirty money through. Nothing too obvious to the SEC.